


scratch at the chain links, maybe bare my teeth for show

by elithewho



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Collars, Cunnilingus, F/M, Facials, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Public Sex, Rimming, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So that was Poe Dameron, reckless, mouthy, too arrogant for his own good. And if the risks got high rewards and little consequence, why shouldn’t he keep pushing boundaries?</p>
            </blockquote>





	scratch at the chain links, maybe bare my teeth for show

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to Morgan, for beta and giving me ideas. Nasty ideas. Why do I keep doing this to Poe?? I just can't help it, that's why.
> 
> This is set sometime before the movie, when Poe was still young and scrappy and fresh from the academy. Just uh, make of that what you will.
> 
> Title is from "Deuteronomy 2:10" by The Mountain Goats.

For his whole life, people had been telling Poe that he needed to be less reckless, to think things through, to watch his mouth. He was always getting into trouble, taking risks, mouthing off when he should have kept quiet. He could remember too many times when he should have just kept his mouth shut when his dad caught him sneaking into the house way past curfew, but he just couldn’t resist the backtalk that got him in way worse trouble than if he kept his mouth shut.

This pattern extended to the academy, and when it often got him stuck doing kitchen duty or mopping floors, it paid off just as often. He was praised for taking risks, even if they didn’t always pan out. So that was Poe Dameron, reckless, mouthy, too arrogant for his own good. And if the risks got high rewards and little consequence, why shouldn’t he keep pushing boundaries?

All these thoughts and more scrolled through his head like a marquee on an endless loop as another alien goon punched him in the face. Really, he probably could have avoided this mess if he had demonstrated more tact and restraint but how was he supposed to know the group of aliens in a seedy bar were pirates? And that the leader would take offence to someone commenting on his face tentacles? Some people are just very sensitive.

So there he was, Poe Dameron, fresh out of the academy, trying to make a name for himself in The Resistance, getting the shit kicked out of him by alien brutes because he just couldn’t keep his opinions to himself. 

“I think you missed a spot,” Poe mumbled when there was a lull in the beating. He tongued his lip where it had begun to bleed. Really, he couldn’t help himself.

The alien ignored him this time. 

“What should we do with him, boss?” the one hitting him said to the tentacle face guy.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Tentacles. He might have been smirking but it was hard to tell with all the… tentacles.

“I hope this idea involves strippers and me getting a lap dance,” Poe blurted out and that earned him another punch.

With that, one goon stuffed a wad of cloth in his mouth and taped it shut while another put a bag over his head. _I’m not that ugly, am I?_ his brain supplied, unable to voice his newest quirky rejoinder. Which was probably for the best.

Blind, mute, hands tied, Poe could only shuffle and stumble clumsily as the goons pulled him to his feet and shoved him forward. He could hear them jeer and chuckle around him, congratulating Tentacles on his brilliant idea. It was at this point that Poe began to get genuinely scared. Getting beat up in an alley was one thing, a regular Saturday night really, but whatever devious plan the goons had for him couldn’t be anything good. He wondered how long it would be before The Resistance went looking for him. Surely they would. He may be a brand new pilot, but he was the best in his class and Shara Bey’s son. Surely they’d come looking for him. Eventually.

For the time being, he was jostled and prodded along, tripping over his feet in his blindness. He was starting to get a little panicked as they shoved him in what must have been a cargo hold. It was small, cramped, dark. No light filtered through the bag over his head and the air was close. He could barely turn around, let alone stand up. They left him there and he felt the jump into hyperspace with a slightly nauseated twinge in his gut. Poe tried to at least free his hands without any success, his neck and legs cramping in the confined space. All he got were chafed wrists for his trouble and in no time at all the hatch was opened and Poe tumbled out, bashing his elbow good on the way down.

The goons surrounded him with familiar derisive laughter as they pulled him to his feet and Poe stumbled, disoriented and slightly dizzy. His elbow throbbed. 

Poe went where they led him, with no other alternative. He heard Tentacles negotiating with what must have been guards, asking to be taken to “Shalen’kor,” whoever that was. Judging by all the security, they must have been important. Or at least very rich.

Before long, Poe was forced on his knees again, the bag torn off his head in one quick jerk. Poe blinked against the sudden assault of blinding light and tried to focus on what was in front of him. He saw large stained glass windows, an opulent chair, a humanoid male wearing an overly dramatic cloak. Poe chewed on his gag, heavy with spit. _I get the feeling you’re compensating for something,_ he thought at once, glad that he had a barrier to keep his stupid comments in check.

The man looked down at him with all the lofty condescension of the very wealthy. He was tall and broad, dark hair graying, eyes cruel and empty.

“What’s this?” he drawled dismissively, gesturing to Poe at his feet.

“Payment,” Tentacles said, voice wavering nervously. “To repay our debt, my lord.”

Shalen’kor stared down at them with an utterly blank expression.

“Your debt to me is substantial, Ojo,” he said and Poe could feel Tentacles fidget anxiously at his side.

“He will make a good slave, my lord,” Tentacles was quick to supply. “He’s young and strong, perfect for the mines!”

Poe looked up into those pale, empty eyes, wondering if it would be worse to be accepted or tossed aside. Images of being airlocked into space like garbage flashed before his eyes and panic welled within him.

Shalen’kor seemed to consider this. He arose with a dramatic swoop of his cape and Poe couldn’t even think of a cutting remark because his mind had gone blank with fear. He advanced swiftly and towered over Poe, studying him.

“Remove his gag,” he commanded and Tentacles was quick to comply.

Poe coughed as the gag was removed, feeling spittle on his chin and wishing he could wipe it off. His split lip stung and he sucked at it unconsciously, tasting copper. Shalen’kor grabbed his chin, tilting his head upwards. Poe’s jaw stiffened and he actually bit the inside of his cheek. If he was getting out of this alive, he should at least try to not talk out of his ass.

Shalen’kor tipped his head to the side, examining him like he would livestock. His face gave no indication of his thoughts.

“Open your mouth,” he said calmly and when Poe did not immediately comply he slapped Poe hard across the face. He blinked, stunned briefly by the pain in his bruised jaw. “I said open your mouth,” Shalen’kor repeated.

Poe struggled briefly with his own natural instincts to rebel. But in the end, his self-preservation won out and he dutifully complied.

Shalen’kor examined his teeth with the same cold, detached scrutiny. He stuck a broad thumb in his mouth, pressing against his front incisors and then his molars, feeling the ridge of his teeth. Poe squirmed uncomfortably. When the man withdrew his hand, Poe spit the bitter taste of his hand on the floor. Shalen’kor did not react.

Instead, he turned to Tentacles. “This slave will be an acceptable payment,” he said in his cool, even tone. “In part,” he added when Tentacles’s face tentacles began to wave in excitement.

Tentacles considered this, appeared to find the deal was better than nothing, and offered his hand to shake on it. Shalen’kor ignored this and turned back to his throne.

“Get out of my sight,” he said “Don’t return unless you have the rest of my money.”

Tentacles and his goons were quickly ushered from the room by guards closing in at all sides, who then grabbed Poe under his arms and pulled him upright. There didn’t seem to be anything happening in Poe’s head except a deafening static. Shalen’kor summoned one of his servants, a tall blue-skinned woman, and said something inaudible in her ear. She nodded grimly and gestured to the guards who all but carried Poe from the room.

Poe wasn’t really sure where he was expecting to be brought, probably a filthy cell with the rest of the slaves. He was wondering how easy it would be to escape whatever mines Tentacles had been talking about, already formulating a half-baked plan, when he was deposited on a smooth marble floor, his hands untied. Poe looked around, surprised. He was in an luxurious bathroom, gleaming marble and sparkling golden taps, mosaics on the walls depicting supple young women being violated by grinning half-man half-horse creatures. 

Poe rubbed his sore wrists, wondering what the hell was going on. His brain seemed to be sagging under the weight of his nonsensical surroundings. The hulking guards had departing, replaced by willowy servants wearing masks over their mouths and wispy, translucent clothing. The blue woman gestured to them with a sharp motion and they all went for Poe at once.

Poe reacted immediately; despite his brain fog his reflexes were deeply ingrained. He jumped up, boots slipping on the smooth marble, grabbing at the first wrist he saw going for his face.

“Don’t resist,” the blue woman remarked, looking almost bored. “We will just bathe you.”

“How about you let me go instead,” Poe snapped back, but he was quickly surrounded. The servants may have looked frail, but they were surprisingly strong, quickly getting his wrists behind his back and holding his legs still.

The blue woman only sighed, as if in annoyance. The servants made quick work of Poe’s clothes, his orange flightsuit with the arms tied around his waist, his white undershirt now spotted with his blood, skivvies, socks and boots stripped off him so easily, Poe was a little alarmed to find himself naked. 

His dogtags were removed too and Poe made a grab for them, not ready to give up the only concrete source of his identity. The servants held him back and the blue woman chuckled. “None of that now,” she muttered as she turned on several gleaming taps.

The huge tub was like a swimming pool, sunk into the marble floor. It seemed to fill up rather quickly, with cloudy, fragrant water that frothed with iridescent bubbles. The servants prodded Poe toward the tub and he was beginning to see the benefit in obedience. It would be nice to be clean, after all. He was sweaty, bloodied, stinking of cheap booze from the bar where this whole mess had started. While modestly guarding his privates with a hand, Poe eased into the tub. The water was lovely and thick with bubbles. He had just begun splashing his chest with the water when three servants got in the tub with him, still in their flimsy outfits.

“Hey, I think I can bathe myself, I’m a big boy,” he said irritably as they grabbed his arms, one of them brandishing a sponge.

“It’s protocol,” the blue woman responded. She was sitting on the edge of the tub, trailing one foot in the bubbles, definitely looking bored now. Poe didn’t like the sound of that.

Still, he let the servants at him, flecks of soapy water making their wispy masks translucent and the waist-high water turning their clothes totally transparent. They were chattering to each other in a language Poe couldn’t parse, scrubbing him down dutifully but otherwise paying him no attention. 

“Hey, watch it!” Poe shrieked, a little high pitched in alarm as the man with the sponge roughly scrubbed his dick. But the servant ignored him, cleaning Poe’s dick from all angles, handling him like it was any other part of his body. Same for his ass and between his cheeks, which left Poe burning in humiliation, but he was held in place by the two women at his side. 

The three of them dumped him under the suds a few times, scrubbing his hair forcefully, but then gently sponging away the blood on his face. Poe emerged for the last time, sputtering, blinking soap out of his eyes. The servants laughed like this was funny. 

When he was suitably clean, the three servants pulled themselves out of the tub and then grabbed Poe under his arms. His batted them away, annoyed. He could climb out of the tub perfectly well on his own. For once, the blue woman did not object. The servants all laughed again.

“So glad I’m so amusing to you,” he sneered. They all stared at him blankly.

But the ordeal wasn’t over. The servants descended on him again, bottles of oil in their hands.

“Oh come on,” Poe mumbled as they began oiling every part of his body below the neck. He couldn’t suppress a grunt of discomfort as one of them smeared oil on his cock, massaged his balls clinically, and spread it along his ass, seeming to take extra care to circle his hole with probing fingers. 

Poe felt a flush of humiliation pour over him, his face bright red as he glanced over at the blue woman, who was smoking a long thin cigarette in an intricate holder. She smirked as he glared at her.

The oil was quickly warm and slick on his skin, but Poe still felt washed in a cold dread when they were done. He was beginning to suspect he wasn’t bound for the mines after all. His throat felt sealed closed with panic and then the world was blotted out by another sack over his head, obscuring his vision. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, beaded with sweat again. He felt what seemed to be thin metal bracelets snap onto his wrists and then a metal necklace, tight like a collar, around his neck. He heard the servants around him giggling as they doused him in what felt like a gritty powder, sticking in thick clumps to his oiled skin. He felt them manhandle his legs as they squeezed him into what felt like very tight boxer briefs, sticking to his slick skin like a wet suit.

Poe was pushed and prodded along again, led into another room, his greasy bare feet struggling for purchase. He felt lush carpets under his toes and then a soft, pillowy something beneath him. The hands left him alone, awash in slippery silk. The sack was pulled off and Poe felt his hair tousled into a mass of thick curls, probably standing on end from the removal of the sack. He was on a wide bed, draped in so many pillows and silken sheets it was rather obscene. The room was dim, lit only by small, jewel-bright lamps. The windows were high and tall, but dark as night, only a few winking stars visible in the distance. Just seeing them was a small comfort though. Space was still out there, waiting. He watched the servants and the blue woman file out, leaving him totally alone.

Poe sat up, immediately planning his escape. But attached to the metal collar around his neck was a thin gold chain, securing him to the headboard. It looked rather fragile and flimsy, sparkling prettily in the low light. He tugged at it sharply, watching his hand glitter fiercely as he moved. Actually his whole body was glittering, as though covered in dazzling sequins. The powder they had doused him with was a fine, glittery substance like sand. He tugged harder at the chain, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled with all his might and it held firm. Poe was panting from the exertion and the chain didn’t seem effected in the slightest. His skin was hot and tingly and he wiped his brow, falling back on the pillows.

He shifted and squirmed in discomfort, the glitter on his skin a not entirely unpleasant tickle. He felt way too warm. Unnaturally warm. He rubbed his chest, feeling the greasy oil and the grit of glitter stuck to his skin. He moaned despite himself, his own hand feeling beyond pleasurable on his bare chest. He tried to wipe the glitter off, but he just rubbed it in more and then he was rubbing himself just because, his skin hot and flushed, breathy moans escaping as his hips rose off the bed. 

There was a soft chuckle from the shadows and Poe lifted his head. He was breathing hard, dizzy and disoriented. He hadn’t even heard the door open. Had he been there the whole time?

Shalen’kor emerged, divested of his billowing cloak. He looked even taller in the dim light, face warped by shadows. 

“Enjoying yourself, pet?” he said softly and Poe whimpered.

“What did you do to me?” he panted. He couldn’t keep his hands off himself.

“Now now, don’t get overexcited,” Shalen’kor cooed, advancing on Poe and sliding onto the bed.

Poe wriggled away, his body too slick and oiled on the smooth sheets to really find purchase. Shalen’kor towered over him, huge hands grabbing Poe’s wrists and easily turning him over. Poe grunted, feeling Shalen’kor touch the two bracelets on his wrists together, activating something that had them fused together. Poe was now totally helpless, his wrists secured, flopping like a landed fish. His hips moved restlessly against the sheets and he couldn’t bite back a strangled moan, his painfully hard cock dragging along the smooth silk.

Shalen’kor chuckled again and Poe burned in shame, pushing his face into a pillow to hide his flush. He felt strong hands on his hips, pulling him up into a humiliating position, ass up, face down. Shalen’kor widened his knees, and Poe trembled. It was like all his strength had deserted him. 

A wide, calloused hand eased up Poe’s thigh and he groaned despite himself. The hand pushed between Poe’s legs and cupped his straining cock and Poe whined, thrusting into that hand, desperate for friction.

It was beyond humiliating, but Poe still moaned in relief when Shalen’kor eased his briefs off, sliding them down his legs so slowly it made him twitch and shudder. But he didn’t touch his cock again, instead he pushed apart Poe’s asscheeeks, skimming his hole with a rough thumb. Poe gasped sharply, hips twitching at the sudden, intense contact. 

“No, no, stop, please,” he mumbled into the pillow, panic making him babble. 

Shalen’kor ignored him, circling his hole gently and Poe moaned deeply, suddenly feeling ten times more sensitive. It was a slow, agonizing tease, Shalen’kor only easing in a finger when Poe felt like he was going to combust. It was a tight fit and Poe gasped. He had fooled around plenty in the academy, boys and girls alike, but he barely let anyone in his ass. Now Shalen’kor was pushing in another finger, slicked up by the oil that was everywhere, the fine grit of glitter creating another layer of intense stimulation. Poe was bucking against him in no time, practically crying in frustration. Shalen’kor finger fucked him without any rush, and soon Poe’s mumbled protests were started to sound like _“more”_ instead of _“no”_ and he didn’t know which way was up.

Poe was sweating hard onto a brocade pillow as Shalen’kor slipped another finger in, and Poe groaned at the welcome stretch. The man’s long reach brushed against his prostate with every movement and Poe was shuddering, his cock leaking onto his stomach. He arched his back like a cat, trying for more stimulation of his cockhead on his belly, but Shalen’kor kept pushing on his lower back, arching his back the other way, pushing his fingers deeper. 

When Poe felt the fingers slip out altogether, leaving him empty, Poe whimpered in real pain. He felt like he was going to die from too much stimulation and no release. His head was swimming, he saw stars when he closed his eyes. But he felt something wider and blunter against his hole and he immediately seized up in panic. He wasn’t ready for this, he wasn’t ready for any of this. But Shalen’kor didn’t pay him any mind, pushing in despite Poe’s whimpers of panic. He was thick and long and seemed to push in forever, stretching him further than his fingers, touching him deeper than ever before. Despite the fear making Poe’s heart beat fast and hard, he couldn’t help but groan at the intense pleasure, the stretch, Shalen’kor’s cock bumping his hypersensitive prostate. There was no escape from it and Poe pushed eagerly against him, his own cock twitching with his intense desire to come.

Poe couldn’t breathe, he was close to hyperventilating as Shalen’kor pulled out and then slammed back in. Poe screamed, turning his face sideways and gasping like a drowning animal. He felt crazed, his toes curling with pleasure even as his mind shrunk away in disgust and fear. Shalen’kor thrust into him again and again, unconcerned with Poe’s mingled cries of pain and orgasmic pleasure. It was too much for his body, tightly knotted with unreleased tension and he felt his balls constrict as Shalen’kor fucked him harder. Poe came with a hoarse yell, his vision spotting with the intensity of it, hands twisting uselessly in his restraints, cock painting his abdomen with stripes of come. And Shalen’kor kept fucking him, even as Poe tried to shrink away from the now painful stimulation. But he had nowhere to go. Shalen’kor pounded into without mercy and Poe yelped at every thrust, his body felt like it was splitting open. Just when he felt like he was going to pass out from the pain, Shalen’kor stopped, pulled out and grunted thickly as came, spraying come all over Poe’s sweat-slicked back. Poe couldn’t move. He panted against the pillow, knees trembling as Shalen’kor grunted in satisfaction, smearing his come onto Poe’s overheated back. He gave Poe’s flank a sharp slap and then turned him over, manhandling him easily. Poe was boneless at first, too weak to do anything more but comply, but he stiffened again, his muscles sore and aching as Shalen’kor ran a hand down his heaving chest.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, pet?” he muttered, and Poe grit his teeth, muscles twitching as Shalen’kor caressed him, drawing a trail through the sticky come on his skin.

Poe moaned unhappily, feeling new tears leak from his eyes as Shalen’kor grasped his aching cock. He was oversensitive, sore, but that didn’t stop his cock from hardening again as Shalen’kor stroked him. 

_“Please stop,”_ Poe murmured, knowing it wouldn’t do any good, but he couldn’t help it. 

Shalen’kor ignored him, palming his cock roughly, falling into a fast rhythm that made Poe’s hips snap up to meet him. Poe’s breaths were quick and ragged, the feel of Shalen’kor’s broad thumb against his cockhead like the brush of sandpaper. He moaned, yelped, twisted helplessly as Shalen’kor pulled every reaction from him with a small smile on his face. Poe came a second time with a broken whimper, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Poe lay there wrecked, shivering slightly as Shalen’kor pet his hair with alarming gentleness. 

“You’ll do much better here than in my mines, pet,” he said calmly, smoothing a broad hand over Poe’s damp forehead. “And tomorrow I’ll share you with my associates. We’ll have a feast in your honor.”

Poe was too exhausted and wrung out to feel genuine panic but he moaned in fear all the same. Shalen’kor reached behind him, releasing whatever mechanism kept his wrists together and slunk away, redressing himself in a loose robe. 

Poe curled up in a shaking ball, every part of him sore and aching. He heard the door click but he couldn’t even raise his head to see if he was truly alone. He felt tears on his face and weak shuddering sobs wrack his body, but it wasn’t long before he was asleep.

 

Poe slept fitfully and when he finally awoke, the room was filled with milky light. What he could see out the tall windows was an expanse of well-manicured lawn freckled with purple flowers. There was a lake in the distance, its shore glittering with what looked like shards of glass. 

He was sore and stiff, his head throbbing, his wrists aching, everything below the waist like a single swelling bruise. His head felt stuffed with cotton balls and he was painfully thirsty, like he had a dreadful hangover. He was naked still, the glitter and oil that had coated him crusting off like an emulsion of glue.

Struggling to sit up, Poe looked around. He was still shackled to the bed by the neck and pulling at the chain with all the vigor he could muster did nothing. The lamps beside the bed were bolted to the wall and there was nothing that could pass for a weapon within reach. And even the small exertion of pulling on the chain and trying to reach for something, anything, he could use to defend himself had left his arms trembling, his headache worsening sharply. 

Poe chewed on the inside of his cheek, determined not to give into despair quite yet. Damerons didn’t give up and he wasn’t going to disrupt that legacy anytime soon.

The door clicked open so suddenly that Poe startled, his body strung tight like a bowstring in anticipation of danger. But it was only the blue woman, a ring of keys dangling from her hand, accompanied by a servant in wispy lilac.

The pair did not even bother greeting him and Poe couldn’t help but cover himself instinctively. The servant bore a silver tray with mush like porridge dotted with purple berries and a pitcher of cerulean juice. The tray was laid on the bed beside him and the blue woman looked at him pointedly, clearly expecting him to get on with it.

Poe couldn’t think of a reason why they’d poison him so he tucked in. He was starving anyway, and thirsty enough to drink the lake. The porridge was rather thick and gloppy, but the berries were sweet and the blue juice refreshing. He drank a glass in one long gulp and then poured another greedily. The blue woman glared at him in her bored way while the servant stared out the window, humming to herself.

“Nice day, isn’t it,” Poe said to no response at all. “Mmm, yes,” he continued as though they had. “The birds are chirping, the bunnies are probably frolicking, it’s a goddamn picture book.”

The blue woman stared at him blandly. Poe scraped the bottom of the bowl, not knowing when he’d get fed again. The blue woman raised a sharp, navy eyebrow at him. Dutifully he dropped the spoon in the bowl. They were watching him for a reason; he’d never be able to nick a utensil to use as a weapon.

“My compliments to the chef,” he added drily as the servant gathered up the tray.

“You’ll use the facilities now,” the blue woman announced and Poe smirked.

“Oh, I thought you were here to put me in nappies too?”

She ignored him. From her ring of keys she unlocked the chain from the headboard and gave it a tug, indicating that he should follow her. Poe sighed in defeat, letting her lead him naked from the room like a disobedient dog. She led him into a smaller washroom and stood there watching him with her arms folded, face a mask of boredom, as he pissed and brushed his teeth with the available implements. It was all very humiliating, but Poe had been put through the ringer of humiliation. In comparison, this was the height of privacy.

Then she led him back to the room and chained him up again, a cow being taken in from pasture.

“I’d tip you but I must have dropped my wallet,” he told her which earned an eye roll. That felt almost victorious.

But when she was gone and Poe was alone again, he was adrift. Nothing to do but stare at the wall and bland, featureless gardens out the windows. And think of course, but he was trying to do that as little as possible. The night before seemed like a particularly nasty dream and he might have allowed himself to think it was if he couldn’t feel the physical effects: the bruises on his hips, the soreness of his ass, the red circles around each wrist. But it was all hazy, lacking concrete detail. He preferred to leave it like that, not inspect his potent humiliation too closely, find he had some kind of complicity in what had happened.

Instead he thought incessantly about escaping, about his fellow pilots storming this palace at any moment, bursting through the door and rescuing him. Maybe they’d be led by the General herself and she wouldn’t even be angry about his stupidity, just glad he was still alive to fight the good fight. He couldn’t stay here forever. His brain simply couldn’t allow for the possibility.

It felt like an eternity of laying listlessly around, occasionally trying for another futile attempt to break the chain, before the door opened again. There was Bluey, with wispy servants and big hulking guards. Wonderful.

She bid him to rise and he was unchained, led into the room with the large tub again and bathed as before. He let it all happen without protest, but he had taken to chatting up Bluey like he was trying to get in her pants at the bar, only because she was stone faced to whatever he said.

“You should see how I handle an X-wing,” he said lazily as some servant scrubbed his balls. “I’ll take you for a spin sometime, if you want.” Bluey just puffed a cloud of purplish smoke into the air, then pulled another long drag on her cigarette.

The thing he truly feared was after the bath and the fluffy towels roughly fondling his various parts. But while the oiling was the same, there was no powdering of glitter to put him in a hypersexual daze that he couldn’t control. He wondered if it would make what was coming easier or harder to bear. They did squash him into tight little shorts like before, gold like the gleaming taps. Somehow they made him feel even more on display.

Flanked on either side by hulking guards, Poe was tugged forward, a little dog on a leash, no sack on his head this time, but no more control over his own actions. He was led through winding halls, tapestries depicting every act of fornication imaginable on the marble walls. Their destination was apparently a long feast hall, with low tables and colorful pillows to lounge upon. The ceilings were low too, huge lamps casting flickering golden light over everything. The hall was only half full, elegantly lethargic aristocrats were nibbling at their food and drinking black wine from glass goblets. They barely inclined their heads as Poe and the others entered, but Shalen’kor took notice, rising from the opulent pillow he was perched upon. Poe’s chest constricted tight in anxiety.

Bluey led him through the middle of the hall and gradually the dinner guests looked up, watching him pass with eyes rimmed in gold paint. He felt vaguely sick to his stomach when he stood before Shalen’kor, but he tried not to show it. 

“Nice digs,” he said casually, but no one took any notice.

“Bring him here,” Shalen’kor commanded and Bluey complied, giving his chain a totally unnecessary tug that made him stumble.

She indicated where he could sit, on the floor beside Shalen’kor’s pillow.

“Do I get a bone to chew on? A doggie bowl?”

“Sit down,” Shalen’kor said in his perpetually calm voice.

Poe glared at him and Bluey responded with a harsh jerk on the chain, causing his collar to cut into his neck. _“Sit down,”_ she hissed and Poe sighed, bent his knees and sat cross-legged on the hard floor. Bluey handed the end of the chain over to Shalen’kor and went to sit on her own pillow at the end of the table.

Shalen’kor sat elegantly on his pillow and dropped a large hand on top of Poe’s head, digging into the mass of curls that had formed when his hair began to dry.

“If I beg and whine, do I get some scraps?” Poe snapped irritably and with that, Shalen’kor’s grip on his hair tightened, jerking his head to the side so he was looking into the man’s eye.

“Your remarks are tiresome, pet,” he said in a low voice.

“Really? I’ve been told I’m absolutely charming,” he bit out.

Shalen’kor let go of his hair in favor of slapping his hand across his cheek. Poe reacted without thinking; his hands were free and he was tired of being jerked around and treated like a dog. He rose halfway to his feet, his face twisting mulishly, grabbing for Shalen’kor’s wrist. But the other man was quicker - he grabbed Poe by the back of the neck and slammed his face hard onto the table with enough force to upset a jug of wine. Poe felt the sweet, sticky booze pool around his face as he recovered from the sudden blow, leaving him slightly dizzy.

“You’ll learn respect, boy,” Shalen’kor said gravely. Poe coughed weakly but he was too busy trying not to drown in a flood of wine to respond.

Shalen’kor didn’t so much release him as pull him roughly away from the table and onto the floor. Poe fell hard on his backside and didn’t try to get up, wiping spilt wine off his face with his hand.

“Would any of my guests like to show my pet how slaves respect their masters?” Shalen’kor drawled lazily, jostling Poe’s chain with a light jingle.

There was a small scuffle as nobles hurried to stand up from their drunken stupors and approach the head table. Poe felt an icy dagger of fear in his heart. A tall male aristocrat was first. He bowed foppishly to Shalen’kor, who gave him a dismissive wave of the hand. Shalen’kor tugged at Poe’s chain, indicating he should sit up. 

“No,” he said firmly, trying his best not to give in.

“Up,” Shalen’kor commanded, and tugged at the chain hard so that Poe’s collar bit into his throat, choking him. Poe was forced into a kneeling position and the aristocrat approached him eagerly.

“He has a smart mouth,” Shalen’kor announced. “Show him the proper use for it.”

The aristocrat was already untying his loose robes. Poe struggled briefly but it was really no use. The aristocrat was pushing his already hard cock against Poe’s mouth. He felt his hair being tugged again, the collar still cutting into his throat. His head was shaken roughly until he complied, opening his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.

It was easier to just pretend it wasn’t happening. Ignore the fat cock in his mouth and it would all be over soon. Shalen’kor gave the chain some slack but now he was being choked by the cock pushing towards the back of his throat. Poe gagged weakly, spit running down his chin. The man laughed roughly, hand carding through Poe’s damp curls as he worked up to fucking his face. Poe breathed hard through his nose, feeling like he was going to pass out. It felt like hours before the man stiffened and pulled out, only to spray fat globs of come all over Poe’s face, flecks of it landing on his hair and eyelids and dribbling over his swollen lips. Poe slumped to the floor, the chain loose enough now to allow it. He rubbed at his eyes with a shaking hand, spitting weakly on the floor.

There was laughter all around and Poe looked up, his stomach lurching in fear when he saw a small line forming at the head table. Another aristocrat approached him and Shalen’kor pulled him to his knees again.

“Show a little more enthusiasm,” he said sharply, holding the back of Poe’s neck with a bruising grip.

Poe breathed in shakily as the next cock bobbed in front of his face. He took it in his mouth without complaint and sucked weakly.

“He can do better than that, surely,” the man at the other end of the cock said in exasperation.

“Go on,” Shalen’kor commanded, shaking his chain.

Poe steeled himself, trying not to think too hard about it as he sucked hard, bobbing his head dutifully. These men seemed to like grabbing his hair, tugging at great handfuls painfully. This cock was longer than the last and soon Poe was choking on it, unable to do much but cough, his eyes watering as the man thrust into his throat. And when he came, it was with his cock in Poe’s mouth and he gagged, spitting it out as soon as the man pulled away.

“You’ll get used to it,” Shalen’kor cooed gently, stroking Poe’s hair. He said nothing, all his clever remarks stolen from him.

The next patron was an elegant lady as she threw her napkin at him before perching herself on the table, cleared of any food or wine. Poe looked up her, hand shaking as he wiped at his face. Her overly penciled eyebrows rose as she reached out, grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face between her legs.

It was more challenging, getting a woman off. The men seemed content with fucking his face, but Poe had to navigate this purely on experience. He had always liked going down on girls but this was entirely different. She moaned and thrashed about, pulling his hair and digging her long fingernails into his scalp. He tried his best, concentrating on her clit and licking at her the way he had in the past. Still, it seemed to take forever for her to go stiff above him, her thighs squeezing his head painfully as she came, grinding herself onto his face.

Poe fell back, panting. His jaw hurt and his whole face was sticky and shining. Shalen’kor smirked above him. Another man approached, untying his robes.

His whole face was aching after seven men and two ladies had used him like a sexdroid and he had come on his face, on his chest, gluing up in his hair.

“Don’t go to sleep yet, my pet,” Shalen’kor drawled, standing before Poe as he shivered on the ground.

He was untying his robes and Poe moaned unhappily, which only made him chuckle. 

“Prove your worth to me, pet,” he said, baring his cock to Poe’s face, tugging him into position by the chain. “I want to be impressed.”

The implicit threat was enough. Poe was aching, tired, sick to death of the taste of come. But he sucked the end of Shalen’kor’s cock with all the finesse he could muster, stuffing it further into his mouth even as he gagged on it. Shalen’kor did not seem keen on doing much of the work, keeping his hips still, forcing Poe to bob his head obscenely, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. His jaw felt like it was going to fall off. Then he felt Shalen’kor’s hips shudder, he pulled harder at Poe’s chain and then he was coming, the first spurt into Poe’s mouth, making him gag and then the rest over his glistening lips, swollen with abuse. 

Poe had only a brief moment to hunch over on the floor, shoulders shaking. Then Shalen’kor was tugging him up again by the chain and then roughly by the hair when he was slow to respond. Shakily, Poe got to his knees and then Shalen’kor was lifting him up, laying him face down across the table, his face right next to plate of blue cheeses. Poe shifted weakly, knowing what must come next. His suspicions were confirmed when Shalen’kor tugged his briefs over the swell of his ass, giving it a small pat.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” he remarked, as though Poe was a fine cut of meat. “Anyone want a taste?”

Poe gasped in panic but it was no use struggling. Shalen’kor was already securing his wrists the way he had the night before and then there were hands spreading his cheeks. Poe panted roughly, his useless struggles dislodging a plate of ball-shaped appetizers that went rolling onto the floor. No one paid them any mind and he felt the wet, slippery drag of a tongue on his hole, making him yelp. They licked at him gently, like he was a delicacy and Poe squirmed at the maddening sensation. 

“He’s very sensitive,” Shalen’kor remarked and Poe’s face burned, mortified beyond words. 

He stroked Poe’s lower back gently as the tongue grew more insistent, delving deeper. Poe bit his lip hard, trying not to make any sound, but the tongue seemed determined to wring some reaction from him. They teased and nipped and sucked and Poe writhed despite himself, his cock hardening against the table. It was worse, much worse, because he didn’t have any glittery dust to blame it on. He tasted blood as he chewed his lip, trying hard not to cry out. Little frustrated sounds escaped anyway and Shalen’kor laughed fondly, caressed Poe’s shoulders lightly.

“Let someone else have a taste, Niconda,” Shalen’kor said and the slippery tongue departed. It was soon replaced with another and Poe gasped, his hips pushing into the table despite himself. His cock was throbbing, untouched, and sometimes a finger would slip into his ass they licked him, a wriggling tease that made him clench and rock towards them.

Two others had their turn and Poe was a shuddering mess, sweat dampening his burning face, all but humping the table as strong hands pulled his legs wider apart, baring him fully. A slick finger trailed down his perineum and teased his balls and he hiccupped, his moans catching embarrassingly in his throat. When he finally felt more than one finger in his ass, they hooked them deliberately, dragging right over his prostate and Poe grunted roughly, trying to fuck himself on their fingers. The derisive laughter burned in his ears.

“Let the eager slut have the cock he wants,” Shalen’kor announced and Poe whimpered. 

The first cock pushed in with only spit to slick him and Poe cried out at the painful stretch. He was still so sore from Shalen’kor’s attentions the night before. But they paid him no mind, fucking into him roughly, as though they had been desperate for hours. They slapped his ass in their enjoyment and Poe had no way to muffle his cries. They fucked him hard, his cock bumping painfully against the unforgiving table, giving him no relief. When they were satisfied, it was another’s turn. 

Poe was used roughly, and in quick succession. He was starting to disconnect, his thoughts glazing over, as the cocks that fucked him blurred together. He barely registered that it had stopped, trails of semen dripping down his thighs, until a grabbing hand shook his hair roughly.

“Wake up, pet,” Shalen’kor said sharply and Poe peered blurrily at him with one eye. “You aren’t done yet.”

Hands were turning him over. Poe had no energy left to fight. His eyelids felt heavy. His cock had gone soft as his consciousness had drifted and now a small hand was jerking him roughly. Poe gasped, shocked back into wakefulness. One of the younger women was perched above him, wearing nothing but a flowery headdress and the golden paint on her face. She worked his cock back into hardness with embarrassingly little effort and then straddled him. Poe grunted, his cock sinking into the warm clutch of her cunt. He could only thrust weakly, thighs shaking at the effort. She didn’t seem to mind, riding him with long, hard strokes, sucking her bottom lip, breasts jiggling. She used him purely for her own pleasure, licking her two fingers to rub her own clit, but Poe was gasping beneath her. She fucked him hard, coming with a little cry, her thighs shaking. She stopped briefly, her breasts glistening in the candlelight, leaving Poe painfully on edge. Then she started again, fucking herself to another orgasm before slipping off him to finally, blissfully, jerk Poe’s cock with hard strokes, pulling him to a blinding orgasm that left him whimpering, weak and boneless.

Poe twitched and shivered, wishing he could curl into a ball, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He heard tittering above him, low laughter and noises of appreciation. He felt a hand on his hair again and flinched away slightly.

“There there, pet,” Shalen’kor said softly, stroking his tangled hair. “You did so well.”

Poe swallowed thickly, his vision blurry as he stared up at the ceiling. He got the feeling that he should say something, something witty to show that they hadn’t affected him. But he couldn’t think of anything. 

 

Morning, with its soft, milky light. Poe was aching worse than his last week at the academy. But it was worse, because then he had felt proud of his accomplishments. It was a little different now.

It was the same routine. Bluey and a servant with a silver tray of food, Bluey escorting him to the bathroom, then caged loneliness. He was a wild animal being broken into domesticated servitude. After he was woken up for breakfast, Poe curled into a ball and fell asleep again. He felt like a dog on that leash and now he was acting like one too. 

Groggily, he lifted his head when the sound of the door opening roused him. There was still daylight in the room, low and slanted, but it wasn’t dark like when they usually came for him. Poe sat up, immediately more alert. It wasn’t Bluey and the servants this time. It was Shalen’kor himself, alone.

“Good evening, pet,” he said smoothly, unclasping his cloak and throwing it on the floor. “You’re looking well.”

Poe was sure he did not look well. He hadn’t even been bathed yet, he was sticky with old wine and semen, although he had managed to splash his face with water when Bluey had brought him to the bathroom.

Shalen’kor looked weary. His hair which was usually combed back was loose on his forehead, his jaw darkened with stubble. He disrobed slowly as though his joints were hurting him. He stretched mightily, like a lion settling down for a nap.

Poe watched him warily the whole time but as Shalen’kor settled on the bed with a great sigh of weariness, Poe had an idea. It was a stupid idea, bound to fail, but it was an idea.

Shalen’kor took Poe by the neck and shoulder and maneuvered him into position so he could hold Poe against his broad chest, back to front, almost tenderly. He scrubbed a hand through Poe’s matted hair and trailed the other down his chest, apparently enjoying the feel of him.

Poe stayed very quiet, barely making a sound except muffled whimpers and soft cries when he couldn’t help it. Shalen’kor touched him slowly, as though memorizing the feel of him. When Poe didn’t struggle, it was almost tender. His long fingers found Poe’s hips and bent him into position and Poe yelped in pain, old bruises being dug into again. But Poe didn’t fight it, he just grabbed a pillow and held on tight as Shalen’kor fucked him, growing more frenzied with every thrust. When he came with hard, painful jabs, short nails digging into Poe’s flank, Poe shivered, pushed his face into the pillow, arms shaking.

Afterwards, Shalen’kor spooned him again in some nightmarish parody of post-coital cuddling. He was panting, sweat-slick, and nuzzled Poe’s neck, kissing him, nibbling, sucking a dark bruise on his jaw. 

“Little pet,” he murmured, almost fondly.

Poe stayed as loose as possible, trying hard not to seize up in fear as Shalen’kor’s hand skimmed below his belly button. He stared straight ahead of him, eyes trained on the wallpaper design of twisting vines as the evening light from the twin suns dappled it in strange shifting light. Shalen’kor nibbled his ear as he palmed Poe’s soft cock but after several minutes of manipulation, he grinned against Poe’s skin as his cock hardened. Poe bit back a moan, trying not to react. Shalen’kor’s free hand grazed his nipple, pinching it into a hard peak. Soon, Poe couldn’t help but thrust into his hand, breathy moans pouring out of him as Shalen’kor jerked him roughly. Poe squeezed his eyes shut, blocking everything else out, and then he was coming with a soft, strangled sound, hot come hitting his stomach and staining the bedsheets.

As Poe’s breathing slowed down, Shalen’kor petted him, pushing back his sweat-dampened hair and kissing the back of his neck, lazily stroking his lower stomach where his come cooled into a thick stickiness.

“Pretty pet,” he said softly. “You are much more agreeable this evening.”

Poe said nothing. Shalen’kor’s voice sounded heavier, thick with sleep.

“What is your name?” he asked, nuzzling his neck again.

“Poe,” he responded, voice sounding weak and fading even to himself.

 _“Poe,”_ he repeated, sleepily.

Poe stayed completely still, training his body to be as lax and boneless as he could allow. Shalen’kor continued to pet and stroke him until his arms grew loose and his breathing deep and even. Poe did nothing. His heart was beating fast, but he didn’t move. He waited what felt like lightyears, the light from the double sunset turning blood red and then dusky purple. The night was fully upon them and Shalen’kor was breathing deeply against his neck. Still, Poe didn’t move.

He was jerked suddenly, Shalen’kor shuffling in his sleep, legs kicking. The heat between their bodies had climbed, and Poe was damp with sweat again. Shalen’kor pulled away, rolled over slightly, barely touching Poe now. He sighed sleepily. Poe did not move, he hardly even blinked.

He waited longer. So long he thought the suns were going to rise again but he could hear Shalen’kor breathing deeply through his mouth, snoring softly. Poe acted. He rolled over so slowly that he didn’t make a sound, the soft bed hardly shifting. He held the long thin chain in his hand, holding it up so it wouldn’t jingle. He looked at Shalen’kor’s face in the darkness, the hard edges of his profile gilded in silvery starlight. His eyes were closed, not moving. Poe got to his knees. The chain gave him only just enough slack.

Once he was in position, Poe acted quickly. He pressed the chain across Shalen’kor’s exposed throat so quickly that the man did not have time to scream. With the hard chain cutting off his air, he could only gasp and gargle in sudden panic. His eyes flew open, bulging evilly. His hands swung up, hitting Poe hard on the side of the head, blunt fingers seeking his eyes to gouge them out. Poe lifted his chin and sat astride the man’s chest to hold him down. His arms were straining, holding so firm he could feel the muscles burn. Shalen’kor struggled wildly but Poe didn’t budge, he didn’t allow himself to budge. It felt like forever, his arms beginning to ache with the power that he exerted holding on but slowly, slowly, Shalen’kor’s arms stopped flailing, his feet stopped kicking, his eyes bulged, his lips turned blue and swollen, a thin reedy rasp escape his throat. Still, Poe held firm. Shalen’kor’s body jerked beneath him. Poe panted in exertion. Sweat dripped down his back. Shalen’kor’s face had gone slack, his tongue bulging from blue tinged lips. Poe couldn’t bring himself to let go, to be sure. His arms were trembling, all out of strength.

When he finally let go, Shalen’kor’s empty eyes stared at him blindly. Poe wiped his brow with a shaking hand. Now he had nothing to do. The chain was still as unbreakable as ever and even if Shalen’kor had a key it was surely with the rest of his clothes on the floor. Certainly, when they came with his breakfast in the morning, he would be taken away for execution. Or maybe thrown in the mines. Whatever they did, at least it wouldn’t be this. 

Poe laid back on the pillow, arms behind his head in exaggerated relaxed posture. If he could smoke a cigarette, he would. An old story his dad had once told him about General Organa came to him and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Shalen’kor’s body cooled beside him and the suns rose, brilliant and orange. By the time the door clicked open with the usual morning entourage, Poe was close to dozing. There was a soft scream and loud clatter. He opened his eyes and saw the slender servant shaking with the remains of breakfast at her feet. Bluey stood beside her, mouth slightly open in shock. 

“Morning!” Poe remarked cheerfully. He wished he had a toothpick or something to chew on, add to his casual demeanor.

“Shut up,” said Bluey and he realized she was talking to the servant who was still whimpering by the door.

“Really, I could have used some breakfast,” Poe remarked. “I’m famished.”

Bluey might have even smiled at that but then she was at his bedside, unlocking the chain. 

“Come along,” she said, just like the previous morning.

Poe bounded up, not caring that he was still stark naked. He followed her without fuss, expecting her to summon a gaggle of bruisers to take him to the tombs or wherever. But she only led him to the bathing room, with its huge bathtub. 

He stared at her quizzically, even more confused when she did something to his bracelets and collar, making them click open and fall away. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, too surprised to make a joke.

“Here,” was all she said, opening a small closet and pulling out a deep box. She handed it to him and Poe saw his orange flightsuit, his blood-stained undershirt and the shape of his boots underneath them. Right on top was the glittering chain of his dogtags.

“Why?” was all Poe could manage.

“Get dressed quick,” she said instead. “If you follow the northwest corridor all the way down, you’ll find the hangar. Can you fly a transport vessel?”

“I can fly anything,” Poe replied, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Thanks, Bluey!”

She smiled at that, just a small quirk of her azure lips. Poe pulled his clothes on in record time and then bounded for the door. But before he could leave, he stopped and turned to her.

“What about you?” he said breathlessly.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied, pulling out her cigarette and holder.

Well, if she said so. Poe dashed off, thoughts spinning crazily. Sometimes risks really did pay off.


End file.
